A giant, he towered over everyone. Over seven feet tall, bare chested and bedraggled, blood lust in his eyes and a man-sized broadsword in one meaty fist. His men stood apart from him, afraid of both the creature himself and the havoc he would create once battle commenced.
Known only as “War” because people were convinced he was one of the Worldenders, the barbarian feared nothing. Destruction was his birthright and he revelled in it.
He looked out over the plain, beyond the dirt and dead grass, surveying the enemy host lining up opposite them. Numbering nearly a thousand, they would have been even in number if it weren’t for him.

It has been a long time since my last post here. For one reason or another, writing had become difficult for me and my confidence waned. Now that I have dealt with that and am becoming happier in my writing beliefs, I hope to write more.

I have many ideas rattling around in this brain of mine, one of which is seen above, at least the beginning of it anyway.

Fear Itself came from an initial attempt at writing a 750 word story for submission to a competition but ultimately grew into something much larger, something that I may develop into a much longer story.

I have started a new short story, again finding that it has already grown into something much larger. I will post an excerpt of that too, in the very near future.

Make no mistake, this is a resurrection for both my writing and this blog.